


Winner Winner Barbeque Chicken Dinner

by Liliako



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: Datt and Jek/Dett and Jak/Dakett and Jetak, Jett gives inanimate objects feelings, M/M, The internet was wrong, talking about all the sex no one is having, terrible ship names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 22:42:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4979437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liliako/pseuds/Liliako
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jett does something stupid which leads to something nicer in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winner Winner Barbeque Chicken Dinner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [likezoinxman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/likezoinxman/gifts).



 

**Author's Note:** This is a one shot thing that came to mind as a future fic sort of thing, but it could be read in the world of vague things associated with [If At First You Don’t Succeed, You Must Not Be Jett Stetson (Bitch)](http://liliako.livejournal.com/16589.html).  Sent to amuse, but not beta'd by [shisoueimin](archiveofourown.org/users/shisoueimin) because I didn't want to bother her.  The only thing you need to know is Popeye and Streusel are two of Jett's fish. Slight edits since this was on LJ.

 

~~~

When Jett slaps Dak’s ass while he’s washing dishes, it does not end in sexy times.  It ends with Jett’s commemorative 37th  Annual Chicken BBQ Rivalry plate breaking into a few pieces on the floor.  While Dak drips little tiny mountains of soap bubbles on the tile floor because of all his animated hand movements, Jett stares morosely at the remains of his beloved plate.  
  
“-even possess you to think it was okay to smack my ass?!”  When Jett stops saying his mental goodbyes to all the good times he and his plate had, Dak is in the middle of some kind of angry rant.  “I’m sorry I broke your plate, but seriously, not okay man.  There’s just things you don’t do to a guy zoned out washing dishes and ass slapping is the first thing on that list.  Second is wet willey-ing and third is blowing an air horn next to his ear.  For future reference.  In case those were also on your list of stupid things to do to me.”  Dak runs himself down, as he always does eventually.  Jett is nice enough to just let him flap his gums and feel important sometimes.

“The internet said you’d like it,” Jett tells him.  It’s the truth, after all.  His plate broke into a few pieces, but thankfully the little chicken holding the barbeque sauce is still in one piece.

“Were you reading Cosmo’s sex tips again?  Didn’t we go over how none of those are true?”

“No,” Jett snorts and lets out a little laugh.  They had quotes from guys with names and ages, it had to be true.  Dak frowns at him.  “Yes?” He tries again and Dak nods with his eyebrows raised the way he does when it’s probably something Jett should have figured out the first time. “Yes. Right.  I should never try to leave you ‘sexy’,” the use of air quotes the first time they’d had this conversation had been Dak’s, not Jett’s, “messages while you’re working because you’ll come home pissed off, not about to ravish me.  Right. ” That one in particular had been the one Dak made Jett write down five times.

"Boners on set are unprofessional unless you work in porn." Dak sighs as he wipes his hands on Jett’s shoulder, getting the fancy maroon tee all wet.  He squats to rustle under the sink for the small dustpan and broom.  “I really am sorry about your plate.  Can we get you a new one?”

“Not unless you have a time machine.”  Jett will miss that plate and the memories of all the non-barbequed food that was eaten off of it.

Dak’s little symmetrical head pops back out from under the sink, his expression a weird mix of ‘sorry’ and ‘cheer up, little camper!’.  “How long ago was it?”

“Last month.”  Jett folds his arms and presses his fist to his mouth in the way he sees elderly actors do when they’re supposed to be getting emotional but trying to hide it.  Dak sweeps up the chunks and shards of weird faux ceramic.  The little chicken that loves his barbeque sauce sits on top, unknowing of his fate as Dak hovers the pan above a paper bag.  “Wait!”

“Which piece do you want to keep?”  Dak sits back on his haunches, knowingly presenting the pan to Jett for his perusal.  Jett rescues the tiny innocent chicken, being gentle with it while Dak says something about sharp edges.  “Maybe we can look on ebay and see if anyone is selling theirs.  The internet is a resourceful place-”

“The internet told me you’d like it when I slap your ass.  Specifically spank you.  Mostly in bed, but the other scenarios they gave had you liking it lots of places.  I think they think you have authority issues, which you kind of do.”  Jett tells Dak while he pets his new little flat buddy.  Popeye would totally take this baby chicken under his fin. 

“The internet thinks I have authority- Wait, were you on a fansite?”  Dak is stapling the paper bag shut like a good little boyscout.

“Uh-huh.”  It’s too bad Barnabas the BBQ Chicken needed to breathe or he could totally just live in the tank with Popeye.  “They write about all the sex we don’t have.  They think I’ve boned Kendall and that you are the other half to a Logan sandwhich.”  Dak has stopped moving which sometimes means he’s staring at Jett, so Jett looks up to check in.  Surely enough, Dak is making some silly looking face that the internet would probably photoshop penises into.  “James is the other piece of bread and Logan is the middle bit.  I don’t get it either.”

Dak is doing his best impression of Streusel with his mouth opening and shutting like that.

“Do you think if I put Barnabas in a ziplock bag that he’d be able to hang out with Popeye?”  Jett wonders this aloud, not really because he wants Dak’s opinion, but because sometimes Dak has better ideas.  They’re not always great ideas, but sometimes they don’t suck.

“I- Barnabas? What? I can’t- You read fanfiction of us?  Of us having _sex?_ ”  Dak drops the paper bag into the trash and it makes little sad clinking noises.

“Yes, they’re not very good.  There’s a lot of people whining too, because everyone likes to say they knew we were going to be together before everyone else jumped on board the Jetak-boat.”  A ziplock bag wouldn’t give Barnabas a lot of air, but he’s small, so maybe it would be enough.  “Do we have a little hose?”  Jett starts looking in the kitchen miscellany drawer that has all sorts of weird junk in it.  Very tiny twist ties aren’t right for this job but he does love them.

“Jetak? God, they’re worse than you at making up names like Dett and Jak.”  Dak is spinning the Lazy Susan in the corner cupboard and looking for something.  Did he hide all the little hose in there?

“Datt and Jek were my choices, but I told you the possibilities were endless.  Now we have Jetak and Dakett, which sounds like a sneeze attack and the other one is just the chick version of you.  So that’s what you get for doubting me.  Now we have a horrible pairing name smash.   I blame you for not believing in me enough.”  The drawer has a lot of those tiny twist ties.  Maybe he can make a teeny tiny bowtie for Barnabas so he can be the classiest of all small barbeque loving chickens.

“Forgive me, oh great and all knowing wise one.  Is the gift of a straw that is not unlike a little hose good enough?”  Dak leans on the counter next to the miscellany drawer holding out a bendy straw and a ziplock bag.

“Works for me!” Straw, hose, same thing.  Dak opens the bag and Jett drops Barnabas in.  They arrange him in the bag and spend a few minutes with lots of tape securing the straw to the bag.  Popeye takes to Barnabas quickly, just like Jett thought, it’s a good match.

All in all, the loss of his commemorative plate isn’t as bad as he first thought.  Barnabas is free of his middle-of-the-plate prison and is now happily residing in his new home, and in a deep thinky-thought sort of way, so is Jett.


End file.
